


Emotion Sickness

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, BPD, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, because, it´s pretty much a drabble, there is some narry, they are in their mid-20s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7125946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I sighed. Niall would be hammered by the time I got there. I started the engine with a smile on my lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotion Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> yup, another shitty drabble by me. Enjoy. 
> 
> And yes, I stole the title from the Silverchair song of the same name. Check it out. It´s their best song by far.

RUN!  
It´s all my mind kept yelling at me. The tension bubbling up my throat was barely bearable. Sending cold shivers down my spine.  
“Well and then she had the audacity to say it was my fault! Can you believe this?....” Gemma ranted on and on. Never noticing I had long since lost track of the conversation. I managed to pipe in at the exact right moments though while still being miles and miles away.  
I snapped back to reality when she walked me to the door, thanking me for the great afternoon. I promised her to call her really soon and made my way to my car when my phone rang. Niall.  
“Yeah?”  
“Babe, you gotta come to the bar with me tonight I won´t take no for an answer I haven´t seen you in weeks I miss you come on Harry please?”  
I chuckled. I knew it was a really, really bad idea to get drunk tonight but whatever. I hardly ever made the right decision, anyway. One more time wouldn´t hurt.   
“Sure. I´ll be there in…uhm…30.”  
“Yaaaaay. Awesome I´m gonna get your fav. Love you.”  
I sighed. Niall would be hammered by the time I got there. I started the engine with a smile on my lips.

“HAAAARRRRRY!” Niall hollered when he ran towards me, jumping right into my arms.  
I laughed, hugging him close.  
“Okidoki beer is ready so are the shots. Come on.” He said, grasping my hand, leading me through the crowd. He swayed quite a bit, but we made it to the booth.  
I hated crowds. I hated the people looking at me. But a part of me loved the attention. Revelled in it. I put a smirk on my face.   
Within 40 minutes I was hammered myself. I had downed at least six beers and four shots. While I was fantasising about cutting and offing myself, Niall dragged me to the dancefloor. We swayed to the music as best as we could manage, singing along, just letting loose. My clothes stuck to my body like glue. Sweat was running down my neck, making me shiver. I reached over to the woman next to me, snatching her cigarette from her. She didn´t seem to mind. Niall´s hand was on my bum. Squeezing. Fire in his eyes. I leaned in.  
I woke up to an epic hangover. I couldn´t remember shit about last night. I opened my eyes. Niall´s place. I turned around. No Niall. I felt down my body. Fully clothed. I got out of bed groaning, searching the apartment for him. I found him on his couch, covered in blood. Dried blood. Good.  
“Niall?” I shook him.  
He groaned, opening his eyes. Closed them again. I snuggled up to him and went back to sleep. Ignoring the splotches of red on my own clothes. 

“Did I do anything I should know about?”  
It´s past five in the afternoon and steaming hot in Nialls little flat. After taking our respective showers and downing cups and cups of strong coffee, chain-smoking and ignoring our wounds, we settled on his couch to devour some pizza.  
“Nah”. He swallows. “We made out some but that´s it. You were kinda…off. Guess you were dissociating.” He shrugged.  
“That would explain the blackout. Can´t remember shit after kissing you.” I tried to sound unaffected. Guilt was pooling in my stomach. I hadn´t made out with anyone besides Louis in six years. Not that I never had the urge. Still, I didn´t do it. I felt like punching myself. Louis would laugh it off but still I knew it would hurt him like a bullet. With his ex cheating on him and all.  
“That´s what I thought. So I brought you home and tucked you into bed. After you cut yourself in the bathroom, that is. Which triggered me, btw, but you know, it´s whatever.” He shrugged again.  
“Sorry, Niall.” I grimaced. Just kick me in the fucking face.  
“Don´t be. Had the urge for days. Was only a matter of time.” He smiled broadly at me, grabbing for another cigarette.  
Niall and I had been friends since we were twelve. Young and dumb and depressed as we both were we just hit it right off and delved headfirst into disaster together. Our teenage years had been a seemingly never-ending stream of booze and sex and concerts. A joint here, some coke there, a litre of vodka for good measure. Ripped jeans and 90s band-shirts. The first few cuts covered by festival armbands. Soon to be replaced by matching leather bands. The first kisses, the first blow-jobs, the first times. He and I were always together.   
And then it just stopped. Shortly after us both turned 19 he disappeared. No note, no letter, no text message, no phone call. Nothing.   
Two months later I had met Louis.

The next couple days I stayed in, ignoring the world save for Gemma who texted me every other hour to make sure I was still breathing. Not that she would´ve ever admitted that. My last kinda suicide attempt had left her a bit shaken. Neither knowing how to react nor what to do she had tried to act like nothing ever happened. She hadn´t looked me in the eyes for two weeks after. Now, whenever I was alone, she would bombard me with phone calls and text messages, just to make sure I was still alive.  
I should´ve getting paid for my performance. I lied to her and everyone else (save for Louis) so easily, it was laughable. And they all ate it up. Every single damn time. I got up from my couch, wincing. I´d never cut my thighs again. It was so annoying. Shitty place. 

“Hey, you will ace this, love. I know you will.”  
I could hear the smile in Louis´ voice. I chuckled.  
“Yeah, probably. I´m still nervous though.” I mumbled. My final, final, final exam was only nine days away and I was a wreck. Oral exam. I hadn´t ever in my whole academic career- if you wanna call it that- passed an oral exam. I had flunked them all. Gloriously.  
“And afterwards we´ll get your college friends and get smashed. And then you´ll get graduation sex.”   
I laughed. I didn´t have the heart to tell him that the fact I was graduating ate me from the inside out. I had no idea what to do afterwards. I hated being a nurse. I just wasn´t cut out for the job. Louis knew this. I was this close to just offing myself after graduation. Nine days to go. I knew he was just trying to keep me here. With him.

“You are doing it all wrong.” I laughed at Liam. He was a good guy, but a bit slow sometimes.  
“Look, you gotta do it like this…” I said, showing him how put on a fixed dressing once again.  
“Like this?” he looked at me sceptically.  
“Yup. Perfect. You´re gonna ace this, Payne. Don´t worry so much.” I smiled at him.  
“I´m not as good as you. No one is.”  
“Bullshit. I´m nothing special. I´ll probably fuck this up and won´t graduate.“ I said in return.  
Liam just laughed.  
Five days to go.  
I hugged him goodbye unaware that I would never see him again and drove home. Stopping at a liquor store.  
Back in the safety net that was my flat I opened the first bottle of beer and downed it within two minutes. I stripped down to my boxers and went over to my CD player to put on some fav of mine from my time as a teen. Lighting a cigarette I opened the next bottle and drank it just as fast. I slowed down at the fifth one.   
Part of me wanted to just run. Grab my keys and drive myself off the highway. Start again in a new town. Down a bottle of sleeping pills. Ram a scalpel into my main artery. Finally move in with Lou. Wake up to him every morning. Get fucked by Niall. Put a gun to my head. Get a sex change. Get hospitalised. Cut myself until my bathroom floor was covered in blood.  
Instead, I just sat there and got wasted. Singing along quietly.   
When I woke up I found two nasty gashes on my left wrist. I couldn´t remember putting them there.

 

“Oh my god, Harry, I can´t believe my little baby is done with college tomorrow.” Mum hugged me so tight I could barely breathe.  
“Mum, let me go.” I chuckled. She did and while I turned around to set the table (free dinner at mums meant I actually ate something healthy for once. Plus, I couldn´t stand the loneliness of my flat today.) her hand landed on my left wrist. Shit.  
“Harry?” I wasn´t sure if it was anger or pity or disappointment in her eyes. I twisted my arm out of her grasp.  
“It looks worse than it is, mum. I just went a bit batshit when putting on the bandage.”  
Truth was, it was way worse than it looked. It was a miracle I hadn´t hit anything. I would´ve needed stitches, actually. But I was scared of being hospitalised, so no.   
“You can´t keep doing this to yourself. You can´t hurt yourself.”  
Ironic, coming from the woman who beat me up when I was a kid. Laughed at me when I told her I was scared of my father, because he hit me even more than she did. Always told me I was too fat even when I developed Anorexia Nervosa at 17, told me my clothes were ridiculous, my interests were dumb, why was I a faggot, why couldn´t my boyfriend at least be rich, how I was an ungrateful shit and how on earth did she deserve such a fucked up son. The list was endless. I was never good enough.   
I just sighed. “I won´t.”

 

“Lou? I did it.” I laughed. “I fucking graduated. And my grades are actually good? Like…what the fuck?”  
Fascinatingly enough I got through the exam without a mental breakdown, without forgetting important parts, without killing the patient. Right now I was happy. And even a tiny bit proud of myself for pulling through. I´d´ve loved to call my ex-therapist who called my wish to graduate narcissism. My ass.  
“I´m so proud of you, angel. You have no idea. I knew you could do it.” I could hear the smile in his voice.  
“Thank you. I couldn´t have done it without you. When are you coming over?” I asked, helping myself to a cup of coffee.  
“Uhm…I won´t. I´m so sorry, please don´t be mad at me. Please.” He whispered.  
“Hey, calm down. I´m not mad. Want me to come to your place?” I knew his answer already and I hated it when he got so bad he couldn´t stand being in the same room as me. He always said what a horrible, disappointing boyfriend he was. For letting weeks pass between visits, for not calling every night, for missing out on important dates. Like my graduation. I could never convince him that I wasn´t angry at him for this. He couldn´t help having BPD. Just like me. I figured this was the reason we worked out so well. We understood the thought processes, the impulsive behaviour, the instant rage at the stupidest little things, the need to isolate oneself every now and then.   
“I´m so sorry Harry I can´t….” He was close to tears.  
“Sshhh, love. No problem. Everything is okay. I love you. You are my sunshine. I´m not mad at you. I love you.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes. Always yes. Now go to sleep, love, I know you´ve been up forever. I´m okay, I promise.”  
“Can you please stay sober today?” Barely audible.  
“Yeah, I can. Promise.”  
After we hung up I helped myself to some leftover pizza, flopped down on the couch and watched Stargate SG1. I had seen every episode at least 20 times and I fell asleep halfway through Daniel dying. Again.  
When I woke up it was dark outside. I groaned and checked my watch. 9:27pm. I pulled myself up from the coach, put on my boots and coat. Grocery shopping, Harry. No booze. You promised.

“Harry!”  
I shifted my attention from the chicken to see Niall approaching. Oh no. Go away, please. Just go away.  
“Hey, sweetie. What´s up?” I faked a smile while hugging him.  
“Zayn and I are having a party at my place. Wanna come? It´ll be a blast I can tell you. We´ve got loads of booze and other stuff, you know?” he winked at me.   
“Sorry, but Lou´s got the flu so I´ll make him chicken broth and shower him with the affection he cannot stand when sick.” I flashed him another smile. Dimples out and all.  
“Aawww. You two are disgusting. Okay, go be a good boyfriend and in case you change your mind, you know where I live. Gotta keep going though. Love ya.” He pecked my right cheek and bounced off. I exhaled slowly, trying to calm down. My heart was beating like mad. I could feel tears welling up. Why did I always lie? Why did I let Niall in again in the first place? He still owed me an explanation. 

Five days later I flopped down on the chair, stared at myself in the mirror and said: “do it.”  
I was tipsy when I made the decision to have my hair cut off, which had happened 30 minutes prior, so thanks to the buzz I smiled broader at every strand of locks that I saw falling from my head.  
I felt victorious when I left the shop 25 mins later, my black long-sleeve sticking to my back. I rummaged through my bag for my bottle and downed the water like a man possessed. I passed my favourite bookstore. I knew I didn´t have the money but I went in anyway.

I put the shower to the hottest temperature it could go and stepped under the spray. Just seconds later I yanked it back to lukewarm and burst into tears.  
It had been three weeks and still no Louis. I missed him so much my chest cramped at the mere thought of him. Nothing I did helped make it go away. I needed him. Badly. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, what is it?”  
I stood in my doorway, barely awake but livid nonetheless. Some arsehole had rung my doorbell relentlessly for the last ten minutes instead of just taking the fucking hint.  
Gemma. Who stormed into my flat without an invitation.  
“Who do you think you are you little asshole?! I´ve been calling you for hours! I thought you were dead! How can you do this to me?”  
“Don´t work yourself into a stroke, Gems. And don´t be so fucking dramatic.” I said, walking over to my couch to put yesterday’s shirt back on.  
“Dramatic? Hey, I´m not the one who´s favourite thing to do is slash into their own fucking skin.”  
And with this, she finally pushed me over the edge.  
“Don´t you fucking dare to judge me for this you little cunt. Not after everything they put me through and after all those years of you looking the other way. You know they beat the living shit outta me every other day. And you did nothing. My own fucking sister. You didn´t even try to console me let alone protect me. They fucking destroyed me and I´m the one left to try and pick up the pieces. None of you gives a shit about me. And I´ve had it. Get out, Gemma. Get out.”  
For the first time in her life she was speechless. She stared at me for a few second, then turned on her heel and left my flat.  
She didn´t put up a fight.

We were lying in bed, entangled, bodies slick with sweat. Louis had shown up four days prior, apologising profusely, as always.  
“Any idea what you wanna do know?” he mumbled into my collarbone.  
“Nah. Not really. Does it matter?” I looked at him. I knew it didn´t.  
“No. I just want you to be ok.”  
“I am. For now. I think.”


End file.
